Page 52 of Liars and Liaisons

“You just… like him?” Bewilderment etches between his brows.

I tuck the towel beneath my armpits and cross my arms over my chest. “Why is that such a difficult concept for you to grasp? Nate’s attractive, smart, sophisticated—”

Grayson snorts. “I’m all of those things.”

“Andkind.” I walk to the sink and wipe condensation from the mirror. “He’d never push my boundaries or ask for more than I was willing to give.”

He comes up behind me, imposing as he towers over my reflection. I’m a little surprised to see he has one at all.

A droplet of water falls from his hair onto my shoulder. I swallow a shiver.

“I didn’t see you complaining when you came like you were discovering religion.”

“I’m not complaining. Just observing the differences.”

“No, you’d never complain, would you? You’resatisfiedwith your lot in life.” One of his fingers trails down my spine. “I think I’m nicer than you give me credit for.”

I don’t reply, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“I could have justtakenwhat I wanted a few minutes ago.” That finger leaves my skin, and I once again feel an odd sense of emptiness. “Could have devoured you without asking first. Made you come on my fingers and tongue, forcing you to admit that there’s something between us.”

My breath falters. “That’s, like, the bare minimum. It doesn’t make you a nice, decent person.”

“Perhaps,” he whispers. “But do you really want nice and polite? Someone who will take you to dinner, hold doors open, and make you feel listened to even though he’s probably imagining being anywhere else while you drone on about your family back home?”

His lips are hot on my ear as he bends down. “Or do you want the red-hot passion you felt a few moments ago? The thrill and excitement of something new, something uncharted? Nice guys do finish last, Little Echo, and where you’re concerned, I wouldn’t give a shit if Nathaniel no longer got to finish at all. You deserve more thannice. More than him.”

Denial steals the words from my tongue, and all I can do is watch as he steps away from me, something sinister glinting in his eyes, like the emerald has cracked and is in need of repair.

A part of me wants to ask who that might be—him? Surely, he knows that would be a terrible idea. Nate would pitch a fit, his family wouldn’t approve, and I’d be out of a job. No, what just happened in the tub—that’s as far as this can ever go.

I might not have gotten my memories back, but I can’t risk a repeat.

When he walks to the door, he doesn’t stop to shoot me one last glance or offer any parting words. He just leaves me alone in the bathroom, and it’s only moments before the walls seem to groan with their own loneliness.

Later though, they’re practically gleaming with something else. Something almost foreign in this mansion—at least since I’ve been here.

It cascades down the halls and out to the garden I’ve started, just past the patio and long before the overgrown sunflower fields. Soft at first, and then it builds into a brutally beautiful cadence that feels like a smooth, sensual caress over my skin.

Music.

* * *

Days later,the music still echoes through the halls. Almost as if it’d been here the entire time and there were never any ghostly noises lurking in the foundation.

I’m sitting in one of the estate’s two gourmet kitchens, alone with Micah, ignoring the dozen text messages on my phone from my father asking where the next check is.

He says it’s urgent, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to ask Grayson for more. Not after what happened in the tub and certainly not now that he’s been playing.

It would be terrible to be the reason the house grew quiet again.

“I don’t want to question it.” Micah sits at the counter, peeling a russet potato and dropping the skin in a plastic bucket. “Grayson has a habit of shutting down when his creative process is disturbed.”

Resting my chin in my hand, I watch her silently for a few moments. She moves through each of her tasks quickly, even when they’re clearly busywork assignments. Truth be told, I’m not exactly sure what her purpose is here. Willow is clearly the lead housekeeper, the only one Grayson seems to trust inside of his study and bedroom. Janus and Arsen rotate shifts as leads for the security detail, most of whom are nameless guards stationed at various exits in the estate.

Micah is the only one who seems to have as much reason to be here as me. I can’t help wondering if she has also been visited in the tub by our gracious, delusional employer.

“How long have you known Grayson?” I lean over the counter, scooping some of the potato skins into a pile before she can drop them in the garbage.

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